619 K KAAGAZ KE PHOOL (Paper Flowers) India, 1959 Director: Guru Dutt Production: Guru Dutt Films Pvt. Ltd.; colour, 35mm; CinemaScope (first Indian CinemaScope production); running time: 150 minutes. Producer: Guru Dutt; screenplay and dialogue: Abrar Alvi; pho- tography: V. K. Murthy; editor: Y. G. Chauhan; art director: M. R. Achrekar; sound: S. V. Rama; music: S. D. Burman; songs: Kaifi Azmi; costumes: Bhanumati. Cast: Baby Naaz (Pammy); Venna (Bina); Mahesh Kaul (Father-in- law); Waheeda Rehman (Shanti); Guru Dutt (Suresh Sinha); Johnny Walker (Bina’s brother-in-law); Minoo Mumtaz; Pratima Devi; Niloufer; Sulochana; Sheila Vaz; Bikram Kapoor; Mehmood; Mohan Choti; Haroun; Munshi Munaqqa; V. Ratra; Tony Walker; Tun Tun. Publications Books: Khopkar, Arun, Guru Dutt: A Three Act Tragedy, Marathi, n.d. Rangoonwala, Firoze, Guru Dutt 1925–1965: A Monograph, Poona, 1973. Micciollo, Henri, Guru Dutt, Paris, 1978. Burra, Rani, editor, Looking Back, 1896–1960, New Delhi, 1981. Gandhy, Behroze, and Paul Willeman, Indian Cinema, London, 1982. Banerjee, Shampa, Profiles: Five Film-makers from India: V. Shantaram, Raj Kapoor, Mrinal Sen, Guru Dutt, Ritwik Ghatak, New Delhi, 1985. Kabir, Nasreen M., Guru Dutt: A Life in Cinema, New York, 1996, 1998. Articles: Padukone, Vasanthi, ‘‘My Son Gurudutt,’’ in Imprint, April 1979. Blanchet, C., Cinéma (Paris), December 1984. Bassan, R., ‘‘Une autopsie du monde du spectacle,’’ in Revue du Cinéma (Paris), December 1984. Ostria, V., ‘‘L’ombre d’un Dutt,’’ in Cahiers du Cinéma (Paris), December 1984. Niogret, H., ‘‘Les moyens de l’emotion,’’ in Positif (Paris), Janu- ary 1985. Mishra, V., ‘‘Decentering History: Some Versions of Bombay Cin- ema,’’ in East-West Film Journal (Honolulu), vol. 6, no. 1, 1992. Rajadhyaskaha, Ashish, ‘‘The Epic Melodrama: Themes of National- ity in Indian Cinema,’’ in Journal of Arts and Ideas, nos. 25–26, 1993. Khan, Pervaiz, Nasreen Munni Kabir, and Ashish Rajadhyaksha, ‘‘The Song Picture Man,’’ in Sight & Sound (London), vol. 4, no. 10, October 1994. *** Guru Dutt’s tour de force, Kaagaz Ke Phool, is a tale of a movie director who reflects on his life. Unhappily married to Bina, mainly because her elitist, colonial family cannot reconcile themselves to his career in the degraded movie industry, Suresh Sinha falls in love with a young orphaned woman, Shanti. He makes her into a famous movie star, and gossip journals suggest a romantic liaison between the two. Sinha’s daughter Pammy, who believes that her parents can reconcile their differences if Shanti were to quit films, gets Shanti to promise to disappear from Sinha’s life. However, her disappearance only leads to a rapid decline in Sinha’s fortunes. Refusing to face Shanti in his impoverished condition, Sinha eventually dies sitting on the direc- tor’s chair in a gigantic, womb-like studio interior. The plot is often seen as Dutt’s autobiography, and to some extent derives its astonishing power in the director/lead star’s extraordinary impersonation of the tragic hero, rejected as it were by fate itself—as suggested in the opening musical refrain (Waqt hai meharbaan) and repeated throughout the film. The persona continues from Dutt’s previous work, Pyaasa, where he plays a romantic poet exiled from the world and believed dead while his oppressors celebrate his greatness. Such an idiom—of the romantic melodrama—was well estab- lished especially in the Hindi cinema when the film was made. Critics generally accept that the idiom, which I have elsewhere (1993) called the ‘‘epic melodrama,’’ emerged in the context of Indian nationalism, especially as the utopian dimension of the freedom struggle gave way to a coercive state, corruption, mass culture, and to the despair that Dutt, better than any other filmmaker, expresses in Pyaasa with his lines: ‘‘This land of castles, thrones and crowns/ . . . /Burn this land/ Blow it away/Remove it from my sight’’ (Yeh mehlon ki duniya). To a great extent Dutt, as actor, comes in line with the previous male stars reflecting this infantile Oedipal longing, with images built up over a body of work: Dilip Kumar (e.g. in Deedar, 1951, where he blinds himself), Raj Kapoor, the outcast of modern society. Kaagaz Ke Phool in fact refers directly to what is considered by some as the origin of this romantic stereotype: Devdas, a Saratchandra literary DAS KABINETT DES DR. CALIGARI FILMS, 4 th EDITION 620 character filmed by P. C. Barua with K. L. Saigal in 1935, and then by Bimal Roy with Dilip Kumar in 1955. The fictional Suresh Sinha is in fact directing a Devdas version, and is desperately looking for an ideal Paro when he chances upon Shanti. Kaagaz Ke Phool however, took that tradition of romantic melo- drama onto a wholly new, and unprecedented plane, and to see how it did so, we need only to continue with the sequence of how Sinha discovers Shanti. He has been rejected by his wife and by his haughty father-in-law, and stands beneath a tree to shelter himself from the rain. Shanti, standing next to him and shivering in the cold, receives a gift of his overcoat, and later, arrives on his film set to return that coat. She intrudes onto Sinha’s frame, and in an extraordinary follow- up, is seen in close-up in the director’s editing room where he realizes that she is the star he is waiting for. That sequence spins throughout the film a whole dimension of cinematic space, as shown by the two extraordinary and justly celebrated scenes of Sinha and Shanti standing apart in a cavernous studio, lit centrally by a straightforward metaphoric beam, as their disembodied spirits emerge and unite; and at the end when the director dies in that very space. It extends into one of the most sophisticated crane movements in what was India’s first full CinemaScope film, constantly dramatizing the conflict between open and constricted spaces, spaces controlled by the director and spaces constraining him, spaces that he can enter and those from which he is excluded. It also extends into the poet Kaifi Azmi’s remarkable songs, set to music by Burman and picturized in an unprecedentedly new idiom by Dutt. The best known is of course the Waqt hai meharbaan which resurfaces, e.g. when the director, reduced to being an extra on a movie set, faces a giant stone eagle, and then escapes from Shanti even as nature generates a storm of protest all around him. The songs, especially, evoke something like a Sufi idiom, of the tragedy of unreachable, unattainable desire, and in the process also rescue the film from the sentimentalism that afflicts several other filmmakers working in the idiom of romantic melodrama—notably Kidar Sharma. The film, it might be added, was a commercial failure when it was first released, prompting Dutt to not sign his future productions. Over the years it has, however, become something of a cult movie, notably for its songs and their picturization. —Ashish Rajadhyaksha DAS KABINETT DES DR. CALIGARI (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) Germany, 1920 Director: Robert Wiene Production: Decla Filmgellschaft (Berlin); black and white, 35mm, silent, originally tinted in green, brown, and steely-blue; length: 4682 feet. Released February 1920, Berlin. Filmed Winter 1919 in Decla studios; cost $18,000. Producer: Erich Pommer; screenplay: Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz, from an original story by Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz; photogra- phy: Willy Hameister; production designers: Hermann Warm, Walter Reimann, and Walter R?hrig; costume designer: Walter Reimann. Cast: Werner Krauss (Dr. Caligari); Conrad Veidt (Cesare); Friedrich Feher (Francis); Lil Dagover (Jane); Hans Heinz von Twardowski (Alan); Rudolf Lettinger (Dr. Olsen); Rudolph Klein-Rogge (Criminal). Publications Script: Mayer, Carl, and Hans Janowitz, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, edited by Robert Adkinson, New York, 1972; also included in Masterworks of the German Cinema, edited by Roger Manvell, London and New York, 1973. Books: Kracauer, Siegfried, From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological His- tory of the German Cinema, Princeton, 1947. Wollenberg, Hans H., 50 Years of German Cinema, London, 1948. Huaco, George A., The Sociology of Film Art, New York, 1965. Eisner, Lotte, The Haunted Screen, Berkeley, 1969. Manvell, Roger, and Heinrich Fraenkel, The German Cinema, New York, 1971. Everson, William K., Classics of the Horror Film, Secaucus, New Jersey, 1974. Laqueur, Walter, Weimar: A Cultural History 1918–1933, New York, 1974. Prawer, S. S., Caligari’s Children: The Film as Tale of Terror, New York, and Oxford, 1980. Barton, John D., German Expressionist Film, Boston, 1982. Brunner, Stephen Eric, and Douglas Kenner, Passion and Rebellion: The Expressionist Heritage, London, 1983. Budd, Mike, editor, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: Texts, Contexts, Histories, New Brunswick, New Jersey, 1990. Hardt, Ursula, From Caligari to California: Eric Pommer’s Life in the International Film Wars, New York, 1996. Robinson, David, Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, London, 1998. Jung, Uli, and Walter Schatzberg, Beyond Caligari: The Films of Robert Wiene, New York, 1999. Articles: New York Times, 4 April 1921. Variety (New York), 8 April 1921. Kracauer, Siegfried, in Partisan Review (New Brunswick, New Jersey), March-April 1947. Melnitz, William, ‘‘Aspects of War and Revolution in the Theater and Film of the Weimar Republic,’’ in Hollywood Quarterly, no.3, 1948–49. Luft, Herbert, in Quarterly of Film, Radio, and Television (Berkeley), Summer 1954. DAS KABINETT DES DR. CALIGARIFILMS, 4 th EDITION 621 Das Kabinett des Dr. Caligari Pegge, C. Denis, ‘‘Caligari: Its Innovations in Editing,’’ in Quarterly of Film, Radio, and Television (Berkeley), Winter 1956. Lightman, Herb A., ‘‘From Caligari to Caligari,’’ in American Cinematographer (Hollywood), July 1962. Whitford, Frank, ‘‘Expressionism in the Cinema,’’ in Studio Interna- tional (Lugano), January 1970. Helman, A., ‘‘Robert Wiene czyli pozory niefilmowosci,’’ in Kino (Warsaw), April 1974. Clement, Catherine, ‘‘Les Charlatans et les hysteriques,’’ in Commu- nications (Paris), no.23, 1975. ‘‘Caligari et la critique,’’ in Avant-Scène du Cinéma (Paris), July- September 1975. Carroll, No?l, ‘‘The Cabinet of Dr. Kracauer,’’ in Millenium (New York), no. 2, Spring-Summer 1978. Budd, M., ‘‘Retrospective Narration in Film: Re-Reading The Cabi- net of Dr. Caligari,’’ in Film Criticism (Edinboro, Pennsylvania), no.1, 1979. Combs, Richard, in Monthly Film Bulletin (London), June 1979. Mazowa, M., ‘‘Sleepwalking Through Weimar,’’ in Stills (London), Spring 1981. Budd, M., in Ciné-Tracts (Montreal), Winter 1981. Warm, Hermann, ‘‘Naissance de Caligari: Les Trois Lumières,’’ in Cinématographe (Paris), February 1982. Simsolo, No?l, in Image et Son (Paris), October 1982. Cardullo, B., ‘‘Expressionism and the Real Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,’’ in Film Criticism (Edinboro, Pennsylvania), Winter 1982. Tomasulo, F., ‘‘Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: History/Psychoanalysis/ Cinema,’’ in On Film (Los Angeles), Summer 1983. Budd, Michael, ‘‘Authorship as a Commodity: The Art Cinema and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,’’ in Wide Angle (Athens, Ohio), vol.6, no.1, 1984. Gout, C., in Skoop (Amsterdam), September-October 1984. Ahlander, L., ‘‘Filmhistoriskt nytt: Dr. Caligari och Queen Kelly,’’ in Chaplin (Stockholm), 1985. Williams, D., ‘‘The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: The Remake,’’ in Film Threat (Beverly Hills), no. 20, 1989. Weihsmann, H., ‘‘Die vierte dimension—architektur im film,’’ in Blimp (Graz, Austria), Summer 1989. Schneider, I., ‘‘Deus ex animo, or Why a Doc?,’’ in Journal of Popular Film and Television (Washington, D.C.), no. 1, 1990. Cappabianca, A., ‘‘Cine/archeologia,’’ in Filmcritica (Rome), Novem- ber 1990. KAMERADSCHAFT FILMS, 4 th EDITION 622 Kuleshov, L., ‘‘Caligari, Mr. West, Aelita: Trois conceptions du film nuet,’’ in Positif (Paris), January 1991. Pratt, D. B., ‘‘Fit Food for Madhouse Inmates: The Box Office Reception of the German Invasion of 1921,’’ in Griffithiana (Gemona, Italy), October 1993. *** The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is usually identified as the first significant German Expressionist film, exemplifying the narrative and visual traits of that movement. The primary story concerns a series of murders which occur in a German town, coinciding with the arrival of Dr. Caligari who runs a side-show at the local fair. Alan and Francis, friends and rivals for the affection of the same woman, Jane, witness his show; there the somnambulist Cesare predicts the future, and forecasts Alan’s impending death. That night, Alan is murdered. Francis pursues the mysterious Caligari as Cesare kidnaps Jane. In the ensuing chase, Cesare collapses and dies. The investiga- tion then leads to a local asylum from which Cesare has reportedly escaped. Dr. Caligari is discovered to be the director of the hospital, gone mad in his obsessive efforts to re-enact an 18th century showman’s murders-by-proxy. This story is presented as the narrative account of Francis. The film opens in a park; Francis sits with another man as Jane, in a trance-like state, walks by. To explain her condition, Francis recounts the bizarre events of the central story. At the end of the film, the scene returns to Francis, who is revealed to be an inmate at the asylum. His doctor is actually the Caligari figure from his tale. Upon hearing Francis’s ravings in the courtyard, the doctor declares that he now understands the case. The history of the framing device is well known, and is discussed by Siegfried Kracauer in his study of post-World War I German cinema, From Caligari to Hitler. It was not a part of the initial script, by Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz, but was presumably added by the producer Erich Pommer. According to Kracauer this framing contri- vance served to contain the inherent horror of the original story. A study of authoritative madness and abusive power was recast as the delusion of an insane narrator; the evil doctor was re-defined as a benign, ministering figure who can cure the lunatic. At the same time Kracauer sees the final film as a powerful expression of the inherent tensions of the collective German psyche of the period—the fear that individual freedom will lead to rampant chaos which can only be constrained by submission to tyrannical authority. If the original script depicted the potential abuses of absolute authority, the framing scenes concede to this authority and suggest it may be beneficial. But the narrative significance of the film is not necessarily an either/or proposition as Kracauer suggests. The film does start by presenting Francis as a credible narrator. His reliability as a source is only called into question in the final scenes. In this sense the film is more equivocal and expresses a more disturbed sensibility than even Kracauer allows. Indeed, the film simultaneously presents at least two viewpoints on the depicted events: 1) Francis is in fact mad and his story totally or partially delusional; 2) Francis is a reliable source, a position assumed through most of the film. From this second perspective the director of the asylum might be considered a psy- chotic tyrant whose power extends to include Francis’ confinement. One is not, however, led directly to this conclusion. Rather, this version of the narrative causes a disruption of any stable or conclusive perception of character status and narrational authority within the film. This in turn opens the film to a range of possible readings. The film has been seen, for example, in terms of a female fantasy, focusing on Jane as the enigmatic source of the narrative. In other words, the film is structured in such a way that it represents contradictory ways of understanding the central sequence of events. This is supported by the consistency of the film’s mise-en- scène. The artificiality and stylized exaggeration of acting, decor, and lighting are maintained throughout the film. There are no visual cues to indicate that the world of the framed tale of past events is different from the framing scenes in the asylum. The film’s visual style is crucial to its exemplary status within the context of the German Expressionist film movement. In The Haunted Screen Lotte Eisner explains that the overall design scheme of the film creates a pervasive feeling of anxiety and terror. It is characterized by extreme contrasts in light and dark, distorted angles, exaggerated perspective and scalar relations within the decor, and painted backdrops and shadows. The basic tone of the decor extends to costume and make-up. These qualities came to be known as the defining stylistic trait of German Expressionist film. Some critics have argued that German film producers consciously adopted this ‘‘arty’’ style to differentiate German film from other national cinemas (notably American) in order to compete in the international film market. Others have stressed the fact that this movement expresses the troubled state of the German national psyche after the war, or represents a retreat to Romantic despair. In addition, the film’s artificiality and subversion of realistic codes of representation have led to discussion of the film as an early example of self-reflexivity and deconstructive processes in the cinema. The film’s equivocal narrative and visual stylization combine to create a disturbing fictional world. Moreover, its position in German cinema, and in German history, makes it a compelling case for examining relations between films and their social context. In these terms The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari provides a wealth of material to be mined by film critics and historians. —M.B. White KAMERADSCHAFT (Comradeship) France-Germany, 1931 Director: G. W. Pabst Production: Nero-Film (Berlin) and Gaumont-Franco (Paris), the collaboration of these two companies frequently referred to as Nero- Film AG; black and white, 35mm; running time: 85 minutes, French version is 93 minutes, length: 3060 feet (German version). Released 1931. Producer: Seymour Nebenzel; screenplay: Ladislaus (Laszlo) Vajda, Karl Otten, Peter Martin Lampel and Fritz Eckardt, from a story by KAMERADSCHAFTFILMS, 4 th EDITION 623 Kameradschaft Karl Otten; photography: Fritz Arno Wagner and Robert Baberski; editor: Hans Oser; sound recordist: A. Jansen; production design- ers: Ern? Metzner and Karl Vollbrecht; French advisor: Robert Beaudoin. Cast: Alexander Granach (Kaspar); Fritz Kampers (Wilderer); Dan- iel Mendaille (Pierre); Ernst Busch (Kaplan); Elisabeth Wendt (Fran?oise); Gustav Püttjer (Jean); Oskar H?cker (Emile); Hélèna Manson (Albert’s wife); Andrée Ducret (Fran?ois); Alex Bernard (Grandfather); Pierre Louis (George). Publications Script: Otten, Karl, and others, Kameradschaft, in Le Cinema réaliste allemande, edited by Raymond Borde, Lyons, 1963. Books: Kracauer, Siegfried, From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological His- tory of the German Film, Princeton, 1947. Joseph, Rudolpf, editor, Der Regisseur: G. W. Pabst, Munich, 1963. Buache, Freddy, G. W. Pabst, Lyons, 1965. Amengual, Barthélemy, Georg Wilhelm Pabst, Paris, 1966. Aubry, Yves, and Jacques Pétat, ‘‘G. W. Pabst,’’ in Anthologie du Cinéma 4, Paris, 1968. Eisner, Lotte, The Haunted Screen, Berkeley, 1969. Manvell, Roger, and Heinrich Fraenkel, The German Cinema, New York, 1971. Atwell, Lee, G.W. Pabst, Boston, 1977. Barth, Hermann, Psychagogische Strategien des Filmischen Diskurses in G. W. Pabst’s Kameradschaft, Munich, 1990. Articles: Metzner, Ern?, in Close Up (London), March 1932. New Statesman and Nation (London), 5 March 1932. Spectator (London), 12 March 1932. New York Times, 9 November 1932. Variety (New York), 15 November 1932. Potamkin, Harry A., ‘‘Pabst and the Social Film,’’ in Hound and Horn (New York), January-March 1933. Manvell, Roger, in Sight and Sound (London), November 1950. ‘‘Pabst Issue’’ of Filmkunst (Vienna), no. 18, 1955. ‘‘Pabst Issue’’ of Cinemages (New York), May 1955. Image et Son (Paris), November 1960. Cineforum (Bergamo), no. 14, 1962. Luft, Herbert, ‘‘G. W. Pabst,’’ in Films in Review (New York), February 1964. Luft, Herbert, ‘‘G. W. Pabst,’’ in Films and Filming (London), April 1967. Pulleine, Tim, in Monthly Film Bulletin (London), March 1978. Carroll, N., ‘‘Lang, Pabst, and Sound,’’ in Ciné-Tracts (Montreal), Fall 1978. Filmkunst (Vienna), no. 86, 1980. Cinématographe (Paris), February 1981. Sauvaget, D., in Image et Son (Paris), March 1981. ‘‘Kameradschaft oder Neoverismo anno 1931,’’ in Filmkunst (Vi- enna), no. 124, 1990. *** Kameradschaft is a noble film—in theme and execution. It reflects the proletarian idealism of its time. It smacks of Toller and Rolland, and like them it has at the back of its mind a shadow of doubt. In 1931 in Germany events were moving slowly to the rise of Hitler, which all the good will in the world could not stop, and the film does in fact end on an ironic note. The action turns on a single event. On the borders of France and Germany a vein of coal cuts through the frontier. Above ground a frontier post separates two communities; in the mine a brick wall separates the German and French workers. From the very first shots of boys quarrelling over a game of marbles to those of three German workers who decide to spend a Saturday night in a French dance hall, the director G. W. Pabst sets the mood of the film. Action is sparked off when an explosion in the French mine is reported to the German miners as they stand naked in the great shower room with their clothes raised above the sprinklers by chains. Ernst Busch, their spokesman, KANAL FILMS, 4 th EDITION 624 decides to lead a rescue party which ultimately breaks through the frontier barrier and arrives at the gates of the French mine to the astonishment of the waiting and despairing relatives. ‘‘Les Allemands. Ce n’est pas possible.’’ The rest of the film is concerned with the rescue. Pabst has stamped the exterior and interior of the mine with uncompromising realism. The people are the protagonists, and indi- vidual characters never leave the ambience which shapes them and to which they belong. With the brilliant cooperation of his designer, Ern? Metzner, Pabst has achieved a triumph of studio construction. Life in the mine and the terror of the disaster are translated into film terms that remain unforgettable. No music is used. The noises of the mine, the clanking of chains, metal rubbing against metal, the whirring sounds of lifts—all this brings the strange world of the miner vividly before the spectator. It is a shared and illuminated experience. Pabst’s great humanity shines through the film. Its technical virtuos- ity is no less. Wagner’s camera catches the light shining in darkness, follows the ravaged, terrified faces. It gives significance to darkness. There is no plot as such. Human relations are hinted at. But the mine disaster leaves us in no doubt as to those relationships: Fran?oise and her lover; The old man and his grandson; The three German friends. All are people we know, and from the event Pabst creates a richly textured canvas of life and reality. Faces haunt us. The hysterical miner, tap tapping a signal on metal pipe, who hears the guttural sounds of his German rescuer wearing a gasmask; he thinks he is back in the war and hurls himself on his rescuer. Anna dragging her child beside the lorry that carries her husband to the dangers of rescue work. The actors do not play in this film; they are embedded in it. The technical problems of creating movement in a narrow space were superbly overcome, as were the problems of proportioning light in dark areas. But above all it is the great spirit of Pabst that is the real triumph of the film. Sadly, as the miners celebrate their new found friendship—‘‘Why must we cooperate only at times of disaster. Why not every day’’— below ground the brick wall which was smashed to allow the German rescuers through is rebuilt with much official rubber-stamping and exchanging of documents. A new shadow was falling on the Ger- man people. —Liam O’Leary KANAL (Canal) Poland, 1957 Director: Andrzej Wajda Production: Film Polski and ZAF; black and white, 35mm; running time: 95 minutes, some sources list 97 minutes; length: 8569 feet. Released April 1957. Filmed 1957 in Poland. Producer: Stanis?aw Adler; screenplay: Jerzy Stefan Stawiński, from a short story by Jerzy Stawiński; photography: Jerzy Lipman; art directors: Roman Mann and Roman Wo?zniec; music: Jan Krenz, ocarina theme by Adam Pawlikowski. Cast: Wieńczys?aw Gliński (Lt. Zadra); Tadeusz Janczar (Korab); Teresa Izewski (Stokrotka); Emil Karewicz (Madry); W?dys?a Sheybal (Composer); Tadeusz Gwiazdowski (Kula); Stanis?aw Mikulski (Slim); Teresa Berezowska (Halinka); Adam Pawlikowski (German officer). Award: Cannes Film Festival, Special Prize, 1957. Publications Script: Stawinski, Jerzy Stefan, Kanal, in Three Films by Andrzej Wajda, New York, 1973. Books: Rhode, Eric, Tower of Babel: Speculations on the Cinema, New York, 1967. Geduld, Harry M., editor, Film Makers on Filmmaking, Bloomington, Indiana, 1967. McArthur, Colin, editor, Andrzej Wajda: Polish Cinema, London, 1970. Michatek, Boleslaw, The Cinema of Andrzej Wajda, London, 1973. Stoil, Michael Jon, Cinema Beyond the Danube: The Camera and Politics, Metuchen, New Jersey, 1974. Leihm, Mira, and Antonin Liehm, The Most Important Art: East European Film After 1945, Berkeley, 1977. Douin, Jean-Luc, Wajda, Paris, 1981. Paul, David W., editor, Politics, Art, and Commitment in the Eastern European Cinema, New York, 1983. Wajda, Andrzej, Un Cinéma nommé désir, Paris, 1986. Wajda, Andrzej, Wajda on Film: A Master’s Notes, Los Ange- les, 1989. Wajda, Andrzej, Double Vision: My Life in Film, New York, 1989. Articles: Wajda, Andrzej, ‘‘Destroying the Commonplace,’’ in Films and Filming (London), November 1961. Higham, Charles, ‘‘Grasping the Nettle: The Films of Andrzej Wajda,’’ in Hudson Review (New York), Autumn 1965. ‘‘Wajda Issue’’ of Etudes Cinématographiques (Paris), no. 69–72, 1968. Hauru, A., ‘‘Kanal—kirottujen tie,’’ in Filmihullu (Helsinki), no. 2, 1979. Holloway, Ronald, in Variety (New York), 5 September 1979. ‘‘Wajda Issue’’ of Avant-Scène du Cinéma (Paris), 1 January 1980. ‘‘Andrzej Wajda,’’ in Village Voice (New York), 20 December 1981. ‘‘Andrzej Wajda,’’ in Current Biography Yearbook, New York, 1982. KANALFILMS, 4 th EDITION 625 Kanal Lewis, Clifford, and Carroll Britch, ‘‘Andrzej Wajda’s War Trilogy: A Retrospective,’’ in Film Criticism (Meadville, Pennsylvania), Spring 1986. Bukoski, A., ‘‘Wajda’s Kanal and Mrozek’s Tango,’’ in Literature/ Film Quarterly (Salisbury, Maryland), no. 2, 1992. *** Kanal, Andrzej Wajda’s second film, is based on a story by Jerzy Stefan Stawiński which appeared in the magazine Twórczo??. The events of the story are drawn from the writer’s personal experience. Stawiński had taken part in two battles for Warsaw, as an 18-year-old in 1939 and then in the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. Wajda quite purposely renounced any possibility of producing an exhaustive chronicle of the Uprising or commemorative poem on the heroic insurgents. His approach to examining this event was different. From the outset he limited himself to the time in which the story itself is set. The Uprising lasted 63 days, and he followed his heroes from the fifty-seventh day, just a few days and nights before the Uprising was suppressed. Defeat is present in the film from the introductory commentary which presents the individual characters: ‘‘These are the main heroic tragedies. Watch them closely; these are the last hours of their lives.’’ It is from this point of view that we see the unfolding story of one group of fighters who are no longer able to hold off the enemy and must retreat through underground sewers. The film is structured in two parts which differ from one another in their use of cinematic techniques. The first part is documentary in nature. It acquaints the viewer with the heroes and briefly conveys something of their lot before the Uprising. The camera follows them through everyday situations: they prepare their food, shave, make love, and talk about their loved ones and about their past. The effects of the war are ever present as these apparently everyday moments occur amid the ruins of the city where not a single house has been left standing. The war itself intrudes only with occasional explosions and small-scale attacks. This relative quiet is expressed through long takes, tracking shots and the use of only a minimum of detail. The actual tragedy commences only after the group has withdrawn under- ground. There is also a change in the style of representation, which takes on an expressive eloquence; the lighting changes, there are more contrasts of light and dark, the camera focuses on the heroes in detail, the sequences of reality alternate with scenes that have symbolic KAOS FILMS, 4 th EDITION 626 meaning. A comparison of the two parts brings out the specific use of sound, light, and darkness. Above ground in the film’s beginning, the basic component of the soundtrack is the staccato of firearms, while underground the sound component is far richer—the distorted voices of the heroes, dissonant sounds which the viewer is often unable to identify, even a solitary harmonic note of an ocarina. Here, sound has the extra function of heightening the drama, for the underground odyssey must take place in absolute stillness so that the insurgents do not betray their positions to the Germans who are lurking above. Light and shadow play a similar role. The first part is depicted in light, non-contrasting shades of grey, while darkness and sharp flashes of light are assigned to the underground sequences. Traditionally, the light/sun is a symbol of hope. For Wajda, the symbol has the opposite meaning, for the fulfilment of longing for light would mean death for the heroes. Therefore, at the conclusion both symbolic meanings—light as good, darkness as threat—flow together and empty into tragedy; both extremes of the light spectrum bring the ineluctable ending. Kanal had its Polish premiere in the spring of 1957, the same year it was introduced at the International Festival at Cannes, where it won a prize. Its reception abroad was decidedly positive, while its appear- ance in Poland stirred discussions that included both positive and negative views. The country still had a tragic reminder of the Uprising; people who had been direct participants in this tragedy of modern history were still living. Their attitude towards the film was sometimes too uncompromising; they wanted it to be a literal depic- tion of what they had experienced. However, Wajda could not make such a film. He emphasized his personal approach as a director by presenting the experiences of a specific group of people whom he divests of heroism but does not condemn, for they chose their fate freely and fought not for glory but against bondage and enslavement, and paid the highest price. Kanal occupies a crucial position in the Polish cinema. It ushered in a series of films noted for their sober view of the myths engendered by the war and the Uprising. From this standpoint the film is similar in function to a declaration of policy. —B. Urgo?íkova KAOS Italy, 1984 Directors: Paolo Taviani and Vittorio Taviani Production: Filmtre, for RAI Channel 1; Eastmancolor; running time: 187 minutes; length: 16,816 feet. Released 1984. Producer: Giuliani G. De Negri; screenplay: Paolo Taviani, Vittorio Taviani, and Tonino Guerra, from Novelle per un anno by Luigi Pirandello; photography: Giuseppe Lanci; editor: Roberto Perpignani; sound recordist: Sandro Zanon; sound re-recordist: Fausto Ancillai; art director: Francesco Bronzi; costumes: Lina Nerli Taviani; music: Nicola Piovani. Cast: L’Altro figlio (The Other Son): Margarita Lozano (spoken by Fiorella Mari) (Mother); Mali di luna (Moon Sickness): Claudio Bigagli (Bata); Enrica Maria Modugno (Sidora); Massimo Bonetti (Saro); Anna Malvica (Sidora’s Mother); La giara (The Jar): Ciccio Ingrassia (Don Lollo); Franco Franchi (Zi’ Diam); Requiem: Biagio Barone (Salvatore); Salvatore Rossi (Patriarch); Franco Scaldati (Father Sarso); Pasquale Spadola (Baron); Colloquio con la madre (Conversing with Mother): Omero Antonutti (Luigi Pirandello); Regina Bianchi (Mother). Publications Articles: Variety (New York), 12 September 1984. Coleman, John, in New Statesman (London), 5 October 1984. Robinson, David, in Times (London), 5 October 1984. Bianco e Nero (Rome), October-December 1984. Rayns, Tony, in Monthly Film Bulletin (London), November 1984. Ranvaud, Don, ‘‘Taking the Centre Ground,’’ in Monthly Film Bulletin (London), November 1984. Adair, Gilbert, ‘‘La tragedia dell’arte,’’ in Sight and Sound (London), Winter 1984–85. Wahlstedt, T., in Chaplin (Stockholm), vol. 27, no. 3, 1985. Amiel, M., and J. Kermabon, in Cinéma (Paris), January 1985. Legrand, Gérard, in Positif (Paris), January 1985. Martin, Marcel, in Revue du Cinéma/lmage et Son (Paris), Janu- ary 1985. Philippon, A., in Cahiers du Cinéma (Paris), January 1985. Delmas, G., and A. Tournes, ‘‘Quand la terre est protagoniste: Kaos,” in Jeune Cinéma (Paris), January-February 1985. Orto, N., in Cinema Nuovo (Bari), February 1985. Rinieri, D., in Cinématographe (Paris), February 1985. Schouten, R., in Skoop (Amsterdam), March-April 1985. Giguere, A., in Séquences (Montreal), April 1985. Maslin, Janet, in New York Times, 13 October 1985. Sarris, Andrew, in Village Voice (New York), 18 February 1986. Denby, David, in New York, 24 February 1986. Kael, Pauline, in New Yorker, 10 March 1986. Listener (London), 27 October 1988. Andrew, Geoff, ‘‘Double Takes,’’ in Time Out (London), no. 1082, 15 May 1991. Trémois, Claude-Marie, ‘‘Fiorile: Fant?mes de la liberté,’’ in Télérama (Paris), no. 2262, 19 May 1993. *** While films are traditionally considered collaborative efforts, few have been so to the extent that two directors have purposefully initiated collaboration on the same film. Yet the Italian directors and KAOSFILMS, 4 th EDITION 627 Kaos scenarists Paolo and Vittorio Taviani, like their older English coun- terparts Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, have uniquely created through their writing and directing duality some of the most innovative films of the last decade. Though the brothers began working as a team in the mid-1950s, their international fame was not well established until the release of Padre padrone in 1977. Night of the Shooting Stars (1983), coming after their reputations had grown, was also an international critical success. Thus their 1984 film Kaos, loosely adapted by themselves and co-writer Tonino Guerra from short stories contained in Luigi Piran- dello’s Novelle per un anno, was chosen to close the 1985 New York Film Festival. Though it was not a resounding success and was not generally released in the U.S., some critics ranked it above the Taviani’s previous works. For Kaos, the Tavianis utilized the infrequently seen compendium format, separate short films loosely tied together by a theme or locale. Kaos, a title taken from the Greek word for chaos, which formed the linguistic root of the name for an area near Pirandello’s birthplace in Sicily, consists of four separate stories, a prologue, and an epilogue, each illustrating aspects of Sicilian life. These cinematic folk tales, though, like Pirandello’s works, contain universal elements that transcend the superficial quaintness of the stories. Of the four tales, ‘‘The Other Son,’’ ‘‘Moon Sickness,’’ ‘‘The Jar,’’ and ‘‘Requiem,’’ the story of a lonely wife and her husband who becomes insane during the full moon, is considered the best. The brief segment before ‘‘The Other Son’’ sets the somber pace of the film and introduces the signature of the flying crow which is seen throughout the other segments, threading them together. The epilogue completes the cycle with Pirandello himself (played by the Taviani favorite Omero Antonutti) conversing with his mother about a pleasant experience from her childhood. Though each segment is filmed in the aesthetic starkness typical of the Tavianis’ work (which might appropriately be labelled ‘‘neo-neo Realism’’), they are peppered with Pirandello’s ironic fatalism: things are what they are, yet not as they seem; the lines between sanity and order and chaos and insanity cannot be distinctly drawn. His stories reflect characteristics of his region, but the psychological make-up of the characters and their sociological choices can be parallelled in any time or age. The Tavianis have taken the currents of the Pirandello stories, if not their exact content, and elaborated them in a simple, muted style, LA KERMESSE HéRO?QUE FILMS, 4 th EDITION 628 with lingering shots and recurring images. While some critics have occasionally found their style too heavy-handed, it blends perfectly with the simple, yet unsettling nature of Pirandello’s works. —Patricia King Hanson LA KERMESSE HéRO?QUE (Carnival in Flanders) France-Germany, 1935 Director: Jacques Feyder Production: Film Sonores Tobis, distributed through Films Sonor; black and white, 35mm; running time: 115 minutes. French version released 3 December 1935, Paris; German version released 16 Janu- ary 1936, Berlin. Filmed June-July and September 1935 in Tobis d’Epinay-sur-Seine studios (France). Screenplay: Charles Spaak, adapted by Charles Spaak and Jacques Feyder, dialogue by Bernard Zimmer (French) and A. Rabenalt La Kermesse héro?que (German), from a story by Charles Spaak; photography: Harry Stradling, Louis Page, and André Thomas; editor: Jacques Brillouin; sound: Hermann Storr; art directors: Lazare Meerson, Alexandre Trauner, and Georges Wakhévitch; music: Louis Beydte; costume designers: Georges K. Benda and J. Muelle; artistic consultant: Charles Barrois; history consultant: M. Sterling of the Louvre; technical assistant: Marcel Carné. Cast: French version: Louis Jouvet (Chaplain); Fran?oise Rosay (Cornelia, the Burgomaster’s wife); Jean Murat (Duke of Olivares); André Alerme (Burgomaster); Lyne Clévers (Fishmonger’s wife); Micheline Cheirel (Siska); Maryse Wendling (Baker’s wife); Ginette Gaubert (Innkeeper’s wife); Marguerite Ducouret (Brewer’s wife); Bernard Lancret (Jean Breuchel); Alfred Adam (Butcher); Pierre Labry (Innkeeper); Arthur Devère (Fishmonger); Marcel Carpentier (Baker); Alexandre Darcy (Captain); Claude Sainval (Lieutenant); Delphin (Midget); German version: Wilhelm Holsboer (Chaplin); Fran?oise Rosay (Burgomaster’s wife); Paul Hartmann (Duke); Will Dohm (Burgomaster); Charlott Daubert (Siska); Albert Lieven (Jean Breughel); Paul Westermeier (Butcher); Carsta Loegk (Fishmonger’s wife); Trude Marlen (Innkeeper); Erika Helmke (Baker’s wife); Hans Henininger (Fishmonger); Wilhelm Gombert (Innkeeper); Heintz Forster Ludwig (Baker); Werner Scharf (1st Spanish Lieutenant); Paul Wolka Walker (Midget). Awards: Venice Film Festival, Best Direction, 1936; Le Grand Prix du Cinéma Fran?ais, 1936. Publications Script: Spaak, Charles, and others, La Kermesse héro?que, in Avant-Scène du Cinéma (Paris), May 1963. Books: Buzzi, Aldo, La kermesse eroica, Milan, 1945. Feyder, Jacques, and Fran?oise Rosay, Le Cinéma, notre métier, Geneva, 1946. Jacques Feyder, ou, le Cinéma concret, Brussels, 1949. Bachy, Victor, ‘‘Jacques Feyder,’’ in Anthologie du Cinéma 18, Paris, 1966. Bachy, Victor, Jacques Feyder, artisan du cinéma, Louvain, 1968. Régent, Roger, ‘‘Louis Jouvet,’’ in Anthologie du cinéma 5, Paris, 1969. Sadoul, Georges, French Film, New York, 1972. Ford, Charles, Jacques Feyder, Paris, 1973. Barsacq, Léon, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A His- tory of Film Design, New York, 1976. Ellis, Jack, C., A History of Film, Englewood Cliffs, New Jer- sey, 1979. Feyder; Zavattini; Trésors de cinémathèque, Perpignan, 1984. Articles: New York Times, 23 September 1936. Variety (New York), 30 September 1936. THE KIDFILMS, 4 th EDITION 629 Sight and Sound (London), Autumn 1936. Monthly Film Bulletin (London), October 1936. Motion Picture Herald (New York), 3 October 1936. Today’s Cinema, 15 October 1936. Greene, Graham, in Spectator (London), 30 October 1936. ‘‘Hommage a Jacques Feyder,’’ in Ecran Fran?ais (Paris), 8 June 1948. ‘‘Feyder Issue’’ of Ciné-Club (Paris), 2 November 1948. Auriol, J.-G., and Mario Verdone, ‘‘L’Art du costume dans le film,’’ in Revue du Cinéma (Paris), Autumn 1949. Today’s Cinema, 31 December 1952. Sadoul, Georges, ‘‘Jouvet et le cinema,’’ in Lettres Fran?aises (Paris), 25 August 1961. Avant-Scène du Cinéma (Paris), May 1963. Skrien (Amsterdam), December 1977. Dossier on Jacques Feyder, in Cahiers de la Cinémathèque (Perpignan), no. 40, Summer 1984. Bíró, G., in Filmkultura (Budapest), March 1985. Virmaux, Alain, ‘‘D’Alfred Machin à Jacques Feyder: Débuts du cinéma belge (années 191